


Satinalia Exchange

by Akaiba



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiba/pseuds/Akaiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fenders secret santa gift for Squashbee! This fic was lovingly edited by the darling emotionalmorphine. :)</p><p>“Anyone would be better than him! I don’t even think he’ll accept a gift off me- nor do I want to give one!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satinalia Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squashbee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=squashbee).



“I know you rigged this.” Anders’ arms are crossed and Hawke should heed the warning for what it is but she was never the sought to bow to common sense so why start now?

 

Her fingers splay over her collar as her mouth curves in shock. “Me? Betray the trust of my friends like that? Perish the thought!” The ladder she is poised on wobbles dangerously before Isabela steadies it, one hand on the frame and the other coiled around Marian’s thigh. Marian throws Isabela a wide smirk that the pirate returns and Anders feels himself getting angrier.

 

“You both rigged it then!” He insists petulantly.

 

“Hey, Orana! Aim high!” Marian shouts from the balcony edge of the library, the elf startling where she sits quietly beside Merrill. The hesitant curl of a smile she isn’t sure she’s allowed easing her as she obliges Marian. The brightly coloured paper garland arcs through the air and Marian catches it with a cry of victory. “Nice one!” She grunts as she fastens one end to the ceiling. “Look, Anders, does it really matter who you get for Secret Satinalia Surprise?”

 

“Anyone would be better than him! I don’t even think he’ll accept a gift off me- nor do I want to give one!” He huffs and glares at the ridiculously garish decorations being strung up on any available surface, not at all feeling the seasonal festive spirit in light of the card he had pulled from the hat last night.

 

Isabela’s hand is tracing patterns on Marian’s thigh, skirting ever higher as Marian tries to concentrate on arranging the garland over the balcony. “That’s not entirely true, is it, Anders?” The pirate’s eyes are on Anders and he feels pinned by them. “You forget I know you. I know you  _ very _ well. I remember what you like and I remember what you look like when you’re aroused to the point of busting a ballsack.”

 

Marian distractedly swats Isabela’s arm. “No dirty talk around the innocent.” As Orana blushes and Merrill squints up at them from the table she is busily making yet more links for the paper garlands. 

 

“What dirty talk?” Merrill asks.

 

Isabela jabs a finger at Anders. “We’re talking about the raging hard on Anders has for Fenris.”

 

“I do not!”

 

Merrill taps her chin. “I don’t think he has a raging hard on… that would be awfully difficult to walk around with, right?”

 

Anders pales. “There are certain things I never want to hear Merrill say and ‘raging hard on’ is one of them. Please stop corrupting her.” He runs a hand down his face and sighs, gathering strength. “I don’t like Fenris, I’d be suicidal to even think of him like that considering his views on me!”

 

Isabela’s fingers still on Marian’s thigh as her fingers curl just a little possessively around instead. “You'd be surprised how a person's views can change when they meet the right person. Monogamy used to be a dirty word to me. Now look at me; I am practically domestic.” 

 

“Well I have tried house training you but it never seems to stick.” Marian teases, yelping as Isabela strikes her rear and her heart lurches as she wobbles on the ladder again but Isabela’s grip is like iron. “‘Bela!”

 

“Oh, hush, you liked it.”

 

“Not that your enviable loving relationship isn't just darling, but I am still not happy.” Anders sags finally, having passed through anger and denial and now he's at bargaining. “Can't I just switch with one of you?”

 

“Nope! That isn't in the spirit of things!” Marian hops down from the ladder. “Look, Fenris isn't that hard to buy for. I can think of five things he'd like no matter what possessed apostate they came from.” 

 

Isabela’s arm winds around Marian’s waist and the pirate arches her back so her breasts is pressed to Marian, the sprig of mistletoe wedged in her heaving cleavage is more obvious. “Just get him some wine and a room at the Rose. He'd thank you for that.” Marian grins and lifts the mistletoe from Isabela’s cleavage with her teeth.

 

“Guys!” Anders whines. He can't exactly say the sight of Marian and Isabela… entwined, like that, is an unappealing one but it isn't helping his situation. 

 

The giggles he hears as he presses his hands to his eyes and turns to leave are all the confirmation he needs that he is definitely not wriggling his way out of this one. What was a glib tongue worth if not for getting himself out of sticky situations? 

 

Whoever had pulled his name had better be getting a cat. Or five.  **_And mage freedom,_ ** Justice adds.

 

-

 

Anders is compiling a list.

 

It is a very serious list, and one he tuts at and folds into his pocket with a weary sigh. It currently has two items on it.

 

Wine and Dead Mages.

 

As a healer and someone with even an ounce of decency, he cannot condone Fenris’ unhealthy binging so the wine gets a nice black line through it. 

 

The one thing they can agree on is blood mages are bad- Merrill is the only uncomfortable exception but Anders is certain he can get her to stop if he reasons with her- but arranging a blood mage meeting up the Wounded Coast is a tad difficult when Anders doesn’t let them live any longer than Fenris does. Any other mages are people, no matter what Fenris says, and Anders refused to entertain the idea further. So, yet another black line through that idea. 

 

Sword Oil gets written underneath those two after two days of pondering. It’s a practical enough solution, much like the elf in question. It has the potential for endless ‘sword polishing’ jokes from Isabela and Varric, however, so Anders adds a little question mark beside it.

 

As familiar as he is with their little group, Anders actually knows only the minimum- and most obvious- things about Fenris. It had been a necessary way to ensure civility but now Anders was stuck wondering things he didn't want to be. Things he actively stopped himself from wondering a lot of the time. Like; what Fenris did on his days off? Surely he could not simply drink and pass out, he'd be far less stable than he is, Anders will allow that concession, and yet… what hobbies would a man like Fenris have? What sort of things might interest him that Anders might give him the chance to try?

 

An uneventful excursion to the Wounded Coast affords Anders the opportunity he needs to find out when they find a smugglers cove filled with crated goods, and more importantly for Aveline to make use of- their ledgers. Anders and Hawke each take one, Isabela sorting through the cargo and no doubt pilfering things, when Hawke holds out a ledger to Fenris.

 

“Come on, help us out. There has to be things in here Aveline can use; names, dates, anything!” She huffs exasperatedly and Fenris’ eyes widen at the book before narrowing contemptuously, Anders pausing to watch him over the ledger he has.

 

“I will guard the entrance.” He steps away as though the book might leap free from Hawke's hand and pursue him, Hawke tutting and cursing Fenris’ avoidance of the task at hand as Anders slows to think.

 

So, not some books then. Fenris had looked as though the vellum and ink were more disdainfully offensive than blood mages, but far more personal. Maybe he'd had one too many papercuts, Anders thinks as he distractedly slices his finger on a page edge. 

 

Popping his finger to his mouth he has a moment of revelation, staring at a mess of symbols he cannot understand and he finds himself pulling the same frustrated scowl that Fenris had.

 

The elf cannot read.

 

And it is a torment.

 

Anders knows exactly what he can get Fenris for Satinalia. 

 

-

 

The days pass and Hawke's party rolls around, her estates a nauseating display of every kind of decoration she could lay her hands on. Orana has cooked a dazzling array of dishes and Anders nibbles eagerly when Merrill isn't looking, Varric pushing presents beneath the tree Marian had hauled in to festoon as Isabela uncorked the fancy wine bottles no one was asking how she had obtained. Even Aveline was mildly less armoured; the festive spirit was in everyone. 

 

Anders’ fingers fiddle with the plainly wrapped gift, nerves starting to set in as he doubts Fenris’ ability to be anything but offended at the gift but resigning himself to his fate before setting it down and Fenris walks in. 

 

The party starts in earnest then, Isabela insisting on dancing and music as Aveline surprises them all by knowing how to play the lute. The wine and ale flows freely and Anders forgets almost entirely about the present exchanging but so does everyone else it seems. The company is too good and they are having too much rare fun; Merrill is dancing atop Marian’s shoulders and Isabela is doing a poor job of coaxing Varric into getting on hers as Aveline laughs and scolds them, Orana timidly watching from the kitchen doorway as Bodahn claps joyfully and Sandal dances however he pleases. 

  
Anders scurries over to Orana, his cheeks flushing pink with exertion- though how he wishes Justice might let him drink this once- and offers her his hand as she stares at him in alarm. 

 

“Come on, it’s Satinalia! One dance?” He wheedles, grinning as innocently as he can. It’s like being back in the tower and trying the urge the Templars most recent punchbag out from under the bed or hiding in a corner. Anders has never been particularly threatening, however, tall as he is and as magey as he is, but Orana shakes her head and draws back. 

  
“O-oh, I shouldn’t…”

 

“Preying on the defenseless, mage?” Fenris’ smooth, gravelly tone makes Anders jump. 

 

“No! I just thought Orana might want to dance.” Anders had been doing a marvellous job of avoiding Fenris entirely- which at a party of less than ten people is a tricky thing he thinks he deserves an award for. “Sorry, Orana, if I made you uncomfortable.” He inclines his head in a short bow and turns to hurry away without waiting on a reply from either of them. 

 

It’s easy to feel the fool when everyone else is drunk and being silly but the stone cold sobriety in Anders’ making it difficult to be just as silly without feeling the shame of it. It probably did look as though he was preying on Orana like that, there’s enough human men with pervy elf fetishes as it is- and no, Isabela, Anders is not one of them, no glowy lyirum bastards for him- but seeing her standing there looking so wistfully at them dancing… how could he just leave her like that?

 

Anders goes to his discarded coat and shrugs it on, stilling at the sight of the gift he had gotten Fenris sitting right where he had left it. 

 

If Anders left, they would probably open their gifts altogether and he would not be there to try and explain his gift. No doubt Fenris would be furious and insulted and Anders would have an angry elf on his doorstep before long. Perhaps he should not give the gift at all.

 

But… it’s Satinalia. And Fenris has no doubt missed enough of those, unmarked and gift-less, that it makes Anders’ heart clench at the idea of being the cause of yet another. 

 

He turns around and spies Fenris, actually making his way towards Anders, and Anders points at him. “Come on, elf. Outside.” No sense getting blood on Marian’s nice christmas decorations if this doesn’t go his way. 

 

Stunningly, Fenris follows him.

 

“I’m going to head home.” Anders says after taking a deep breath of the crisp evening air.

 

“And I needed to see you leave, why?”

 

Anders rolls his eyes. “You didn’t. You don’t. Just… look; I got you in the Secret Satinalia Surprise that Marian and Isabela organised. Some grand joke on their part, I guess. You hate me enough as it is and I knew I was never going to get you anything that wouldn’t make you hate me more, but…” Anders holds out the present. “Happy Satinalia, Fenris.”

 

Fenris squints at the offered gift, eyeing it for a moment before taking it cautiously. “You… got me a gift?”

 

“That is rather the idea with the game, I think.” Anders gives a wry smirk. “You’re probably going to hate it anyway.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s a gift, Fenris. You’re supposed to unwrap it and find out.”

 

Fenris shoots him a glare but seems far more enamoured with the present in his hands as he turns it over and over, gripping it tightly at the fold of rough paper Anders had found and in one quick rip, the wrapping was gone. Efficient as always, Anders thought.

 

“It is… a book…” There’s a warning edge there and Anders braces himself, but can’t stop himself from trying to explain.

 

“It’s a journal, actually.” Anders shuffles a step closer. “If you open it…. the um, well the first page is the alphabet in Trade. Then, and this took some finding out, I found it in Tevene too, so that’s on page too. I figure you’d like to learn both, so…”

 

“The alphabet.” Fenris turns the two pages carefully as Anders swallows hard. 

 

“Yeah, um, yeah… the pages after that are letter exercises. You know, well I guess you don’t, but you should. The letter is printed and you just copy it until you get it steady and familiar enough with it. I’ve done pages for each letter in Tevene and Trade.” Fenris’ grip tightens on the book and Anders shuffles the half step back that he had taken towards Fenris. “I-I put some word exercises in after those pages; just simple stuff- your name, Hawke’s, Isabela’s, Varric’s, Aveline’s- I left out myself, Merrill and Bethany, because you know; mages. But yeah, there’s objects too like your sword, armour, wine and so on- and oh god Fenris say something, please, even if you’re ready to murder me now but stop just staring at the book, you’re scaring me!”

 

Fenris’ eyes snap up to Anders and Anders’ halts speaking with a choked sound as the elf stews over his words carefully. “What is this?” He says, waving the book.

 

Anders swallows. “Reading exercises. So you can learn.” He holds up his hands defensively. “It’s not a joke or any kind of mocking at you, I swear, I just… I figured out you don’t know and I thought you might want to! It’s just the first steps but… well, Hawke helped teach Bethany so I figure she could help you with any further learning when you’re ready.”

 

“But… not you.”

 

Anders laughs, “You hate me.” He shakes his head. “I sincerely doubt you’d want my help.”

 

Fenris’ scowls, looking down at the book like he might tear it in two before he takes a breath and Anders can almost hear his mind grinding with thought. “I don’t… I don’t hate you.” 

 

“You hate what I am. Sadly, that’s sort of the same thing.”

 

Fenris closes the book and Anders is surprised as he holds it close to his chest; like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. He looks up at Anders and for the first time, Anders seems him look apologetic.

 

“I… I did not get you anything.”

 

Anders shrugs. “It’s Secret Satinalia Surprise, you’re just supposed to get a gift for the person who’s name you pull.”

 

“I recieved your name.”

 

“I-... oh.”

 

On the bright side, Fenris isn’t angrily ripping his insides onto the outside, on the less bright side, he apparently hadn’t seen him to be worth getting a gift at all. It’s the thought that counts, not the fact that Anders spent days agonising over what to get Fenris, but the idea that there was no thought at all because Anders isn’t worth the thought? That hurts. So maybe he does an elf thing. A very specifically glowy elf thing that he really shouldn’t have and maybe he wants Fenris to like him just a little. Knowing he’ll never get that is… 

 

Anders swallows hard and nods. “Oh, right. Well… I guess I am difficult to buy for anyway.” He offers a weak smile. “You can hardly gift wrap freedom for all mages, and I think people would notice if you kidnapped Meredith to gift wrap her, so…” He swallows again. 

 

Fenris is fidgeting, his ears drooped slightly as the uncomfortable awkwardness of the situation grips them both, when he looks further up and gets an idea. 

 

He lunges for Anders, the mage squealing in horror at the idea he was going to die, when Fenris wraps one arm around his shoulders and hauls him down for a kiss. It is clumsy and unpracticed, a mess of lips and teeth that Anders grunts into before Fenris pulls back with an even more embarrassed face. “I-I…”

 

The words are halted then as Anders cups Fenris’ jaw and kisses him again. This time; Anders leads. He is gentle and coaxing and Fenris sags against him in surprise at the careful hands and mouth he had not been expecting. His parted mouth is tempted wider and Fenris groans at the feeling of Anders’ tongue in his mouth; so lewd and foreign to him that he flushes and grips onto the mage to steady himself. He’s feeling lightheaded and forgetting just what he’s doing or where he is; nothing but this feeling of Anders around him and kissing him like he’s the only thing that matters. 

 

When they part, Anders does not let go. Fenris isn’t inclined to either.

 

“You kissed me.” Fenris says, far more dazed then he would like.

 

Anders chuckles. “You kissed me first.”

 

Fenris points above them. “Mistletoe.”

 

Anders looks up and sure enough, hanging over Marian’s doorway is a large sprig of mistletoe, it’s white berries so shiny in the moonlight as Anders’ gut twists. He had thought…

 

“Oh. I-I, um… sorry.”

 

“Anders?”

 

“Yes, Fenris?”

 

“Stop talking. Kiss me again.”

 

“Yes, ser.” He grins, leaning down to kiss Fenris and being met halfway by a very eager elf.

 

Happy Satinalia, Anders thinks to himself as Fenris throws the other hand holding the book around Anders’ neck and presses every inch against him. Maybe Fenris didn’t get him a gift, but then again… maybe Anders earned himself one. A shy and fragile one; Fenris’ trust. 

 

-

 

For weeks after Satinalia, unmarked gifts keep appearing on Anders’ doorstep.

 

Potion vials, herbs and ingredients, a very rare alchemy reagent, a pile of books on healing, a basket of fruit, fresh pastries, a new robe- they keep piling up and Anders corners Fenris one evening about them.    
  
“You really don’t have to do that. I don’t mind the Satinalia gift or… lack of.”

 

Fenris gives him a stern look as he pours another glass of wine for himself and a thimble full that Anders waters down. “Well I do.”

 

Anders sighs. “You’ve bought me too much.” He admonishes.

 

“Then consider them courting gifts.”

 

The mage chokes on his sip of watered wine and finds Fenris smirking at him when he looks up. “C-courting gifts?! Are we… are we courting?”

 

Fenris gestures around to their setting- both of them sat close on an only slightly mouldy rug in front of the fire with wine and a small fruit plate. By all accounts it would fit perfectly in on of Varric’s trashy novels.

 

“Huh. We’re courting.” Anders beams and Fenris shakes his head at the foolish mage.

 

_ His _ foolish mage.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: akaiba.tumblr.com


End file.
